


All Sin Comes from Within

by unholy_this



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blood, Bloodplay, Dom!Peter, M/M, Mpreg, Sacrilege, Seduction, Slight Mentions of Child Abuse, dark themes, graphic depictions of childbirth, like for real if you're sensitive with religions stay away, sub!Killian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-12-22 13:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11967927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unholy_this/pseuds/unholy_this
Summary: Previously titled "Body Full of Sin".Father Killian Jones has been worrying about the troubled young Peter. It turns out, his reasons weren't exactly what he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My username is very appropriate for this one. This is very, _very_ unholy, and if you’re upset by the slightest jag at religion, you’d better not read this one. I’m really saying it for your own good. If you’ve read all the tags and warnings and still want to proceed, well, God be with ye.
> 
> Also this may probably be 100% wrong about how being a Catholic priest works. I wasn’t raised a Catholic myself (and not very religious anyway) but I hope I got the basic stuff right, and I guess that if you read that you won’t care if it’s not 100% right, uh, right?
> 
> Hugely inspired by [this](https://justsomewhump.tumblr.com/post/159658071729/c0ffeebee-priest-killian-whos-teaching-in-a) and [this](https://justsomewhump.tumblr.com/post/159644774378/c0ffeebee-forgive-me-father-for-i-have-sinned) edit.
> 
> DISCLAIMER about the "Underage" warning: I consider Pan to be a centuries-old demon pretending to be much younger. In show canon, he's about 25-30 years older than Killian already, and the difference won't be much different here.

The young man had been coming for a few weeks now. He didn’t seem to be an adult, yet every time he came alone. He’d made some acquaintances, of course, but he always came and stood on his own during the service.

Actually, what made Killian wonder is why he never came for the Communion. He sometimes even nodded at the teenager, inviting him to join the others, but he would just sit on his bench, wait until the service was over, and then he’d leave.

One day, during preaching, Killian threw a lot of glances towards him. He appeared calm and concentrated on his words, but still he didn’t give an indication that he’d realized the special attention.

 _Troubled boy_ , Killian thought. And what kind of a priest was he if he wasn’t going to help him? He suggested so to David, his fellow - and superior - priest, but David said that if the boy really needed help, he should come to them on his own and not be pushed.

It was that day, however, that the boy came to Killian and asked to confess. Peter, he said his name was.

“What is troubling you, my child?”

“Forgive me, Father. It’s been going on for some time now, and I can’t seem to be able to control it…” his voice was soft, almost scared.

“Have you hurt another person?”

“No, Father. But… I’ve lately started… wanting, having carnal desires.”

Killian sighed. “It’s normal, for a boy of your age… how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“It’s normal, to want that. You just have to know why it happens. The Lord wants you to have children, but that will come at the right time, with the right partner, and with Lord’s blessing after you marry-”

“Then I guess my case is not what the Lord wants from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not… I don’t want _women_ , Father.”

Killian thought hard before he replied. “You’ve attended many services. You know what the Bible says about a man wanting a man… but you’re not doomed, my child.”

“I’m not?”

“Of course not. The Lord didn’t make us immune to temptation. But He made us strong enough to resist it, if we truly want to. Have you talked to your parents about this?”

“I don’t have any. They died a few months ago, and I’m working to pay the rent and my food.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I want you to know that whenever you want any help, I’ll be here.”

Peter seemed more at ease at the end. He thanked Killian and walked out with a sad smile on his face.

He continued attending the services, and he continued not coming for the Communion. Killian started to worry. He was thinking of him so much he even found himself adding the boy to his prayers before going to bed.

He knew all too well what it was like to be orphaned and lost.

Peter kept coming and Killian kept praying for him. Peter didn’t come to confess again, and that worried Killian, but he was glad he kept coming, at least.

It took him some time, however, to notice how the looks on Peter’s face changed every time Killian preached. At the very beginning, he had been shy and humble. After his first confession, Peter focused at him more and more, and slowly small smiles crept up his lips.

By the time Peter was smirking at him with his eyes half-closed, it was too late.

Killian had spent so long hoping and praying for the boy that he never wondered _why_ he did that with him in the first place. There were various church-goers who had similar problems, yet Killian never spent too long on them.

So it came as a complete surprise to him, when one day during his preaching, Peter gave him such a smile Killian could even call scandalous. He almost staggered back where he stood when he felt his member react to this look. He coughed awkwardly and tried to ignore the burn on his cheeks and went on, his member reacting every time he turned his gaze on Peter.

After the service was over, Killian ran to his office and splashed cold water to his face. What had just happened to him? He shouldn’t… couldn’t… it was wrong in every sense of the word! And he couldn’t really blame Peter - the boy was clearly troubled.

He decided to talk to David. David already knew about his troubled past, how he’d engaged in various… sins in his youth before eventually finding his faith and committing himself to the Lord. David would understand.

However, as he walked down the aisle to prepare himself for the confession, he found Peter standing tall in the middle of it, his hands crossed in front of him, his smile now more calm but still there.

Breathing out a sigh, Killian approached him.

“Hello, Peter. I’m happy to see you here.”

“I was very happy to listen to you too, Father.”

“How have you been?”

“Well. How have _you_ been?”

Killian hesitated. Why the emphasis? “I’ve been… well, too.” He laughed awkwardly. Peter seemed way too easy with this…

“I’m happy to hear that. I was also happy to see your… response to me coming here today.”

Killian blinked. “What… what do you mean?”

The smile he had earlier was now back on. He crept closer. “I know you enjoyed me being there. I know it was more than you anticipated… I _saw_ it.”

Killian blushed. He was wearing- no, it was impossible for someone to know- how _would_ he…

“Was it really good, Father? Did you have a good time?”

“How dare you talk to me like that? In the House of the Lord?”

Peter just huffed and turned around, walking out without saying a thing.

Killian had to cancel the confession. No, no, he needed to go back home and pray, talk to his Lord and ask for forgiveness for his body’s weakness.

In his first years as a priest, he had a very hard time readjusting. He hadn’t been proud of himself, giving in to his carnal desires here and there. So when this boy - _boy!_ \- came and shook his life to the ground, he needed to recollect himself and find peace within. Many had told him that someone like him wouldn’t do as a priest, with such a sinful past… but he’d tried and prayed and eventually found his way.

He was kneeling in front of his small bed, a rosary entwined between his hand and his prosthetic. He prayed, reciting every hymn he remembered from that time back. He would try his best to resist, even if he didn’t think he deserved the Lord’s assistance. But it helped him, so he did.

He decided to fast the rest of the day as a penance. He showered, trying to avoid touching his genitals and walked back to his bedroom.

He froze when he saw Peter standing in front of his bedside table. He was holding the picture with him and Liam, taken a few months before he’d died and left him all alone.

“I guess he would have wanted me to say hello…” Peter said without even looking back at Killian. “But luckily for him he didn’t end up where I come from.”

Killian’s blood froze. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” His hand searched around automatically for anything that could resemble a weapon.

Peter laughed. “I walk into churches unbothered, and you wonder how I got into a simple house?”

His words unsettled Killian. Desperate, he grabbed onto the crucifix around his neck and muttered a prayer.

“It’s too bad,” Peter said. “So many priests like yourself molest little boys, yet you feel so ashamed when a big boy is giving himself to you.” He started laughing, a deep, slow laugh not unlike the ones Killian had heard from villains in movies, and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

Killian’s knees gave way. He was still muttering his prayer as he was crouching down, trying to realize what just happened.

A demon, a bloody demon… that’s why he never came for the Communion… yet he walked into the church unharmed?

Killian stayed awake all night, reciting any prayer he could remember, this time holding a bigger, wooden crucifix in his hand as he lay trembling on his bed.

He almost ran to the church early the next morning, even though he knew the protection he could have there was limited. Peter would walk in without a problem, but would he be completely immune to crosses and holy water?

David found him sitting on a bench, the rosary around his hands again as he prayed in a monotone voice. Killian jumped when David touched his shoulder, almost screaming in fear.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s just me! Are you alright?”

Killian shook his head, looking away from David’s face. “No.” Tears of shame and fear started to form in his eyes.

Luckily for Killian, David had seen a lot with his own eyes and believed him immediately.

“But how did he walk in? How could he even stand in here?” David said to the void, not expecting an answer.

Killian’s face was stained with tears and his hand was shaking wildly. “I don’t know. I’m afraid we cannot be protected even in here.”

“I know an exorcist. Don’t worry, I will call him immediately. That demon won’t bother us again.”

“David… there’s something I didn’t tell you. I think I know what he’s wanted all this time.”

“What?”

Killian took a shaky breath before he replied. “Me. He wants me… but not to… torture or possess me, I think. He just wants… my body.”

It all lead to Killian confessing everything to David. Everything new, of course, since David knew of his past, but it still wasn’t easy for Killian.

“I called the exorcist. You can sleep here today, if you want.”

But Peter didn’t appear. Killian was exhausted but stayed awake all day, his nerves on edge awaiting for him.

Eventually, Killian decided to go back home, since Peter didn’t seem to be bothered by the holy grounds of the church, anyway. However Robin, the exorcist, insisted on staying with him in case Peter appeared.

Killian thought it didn’t matter much. He came to the realization that Peter would get what he wanted, no matter what Killian did.

He might as well give in.

Robin had dutifully stayed awake for hours, but Killian knew what to expect when he saw him collapse on the couch with his eyes closed.

Killian turned and Peter was looking at him with lust in his eyes. He felt his body grow numb from fear and exhaustion, but he still raised his wooden cross towards the demon.

“Be gone, demon! In the name of Lord Jesus Christ, get out-”

His blood froze when Peter extended his hand and touched the metal figurine of Christ on the cross itself, wrapping his fingers around the wood. Killian let out a small shriek at the fact that Peter was completely unharmed from it. Peter only smiled widely.

“It can’t stop me. It never could.”

“Why? How? Who are you?” Killian’s voice trembled, and tears started running down his cheeks.

Peter pulled the cross from Killian’s hand and let it fall on the floor, as if it was garbage. Killian thought he’d pass out.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is what you want.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“This piece of wood could have protected you… if you’d wanted it to. For a rotten mind such as yours, it’s just a harmless piece of wood.”

“No! I’m not- I abstained! I put everything behind me-”

“You _tried_. But deep inside, you know that you truly want me. You only became a priest in an effort to escape, because you _thought_ you could… but as I said, a dirty mind is a dirty mind.” Peter’s hands touched Killian’s arms, and Killian shivered. It’s true that he paid special attention to the boy, but it wasn’t because… it _couldn_ ’t be…

Lost in his thoughts, Killian didn’t turn away when Peter placed his lips on his. He couldn’t, he shouldn’t…

But he wanted. He wanted so much. A loud moan resonated in their joined mouths when he opened for Peter, a skilled tongue entering him and _ravaging_ him. The rosary fell from his hand as he raised it to hug Peter closer, rubbing softly at the small, delicate back.

Killian panted. “Yes,” he moaned into the demon’s mouth, and he felt the soft lips turn into a smile. In a second, they were inside his bedroom and Peter ripped Killian’s clothes to pieces. Killian moaned at the sensation of Peter’s hands on his naked body, and moaned louder when he spotted his throbbing erection. Killian leaned in and kissed Peter again.

Oh yes… He’d wanted this, all this time… He’d thought he was interested in Peter simply because he wanted to help him find the right way, but truly, all he wanted was his cock inside him. Oh, to feel this young, untainted body naked against his own!

Peter was quick; he knew exactly what Killian wanted. So he threw him on the bed and kissed him hard as he took off his own clothes. His hands were travelling up and down Killian’s body, fingers lingering on the old cigarette burns on his skin. It made Killian so hard and desperate for him.

“Please,” he said breathlessly. “I need you…”

Peter obeyed. He turned Killian on his side, then lay down behind him and entered him, fast and hard. Killian yelled in pleasure. Oh, it felt good. Peter thrust in him and kissed his back and caressed his scars… oh, how he’d longed for this.

Peter didn’t hurt him at all. He thrust and thrust into him and moaned in pleasure, but he made sure that it was what Killian wanted as well.

Killian breathed hard, caressing Peter’s buttocks and completely ignored his own aching cock. He only wanted to touch him, to feel him, to _taste_ him…

“Let me,” Peter said and took Killian’s cock in his hand. Killian gasped and almost swatted his hand away… no, this wasn’t for him, this was Killian showing him how much he needed him and-

Oh, Peter’s hands were the devil himself. He rubbed exactly how Killian wanted, knowing every one of his wishes, bringing him to ecstasy in _seconds_. Or it was the years of abstinence, Killian didn’t care. He turned his head back to kiss him, to taste those fine lips again, to thank him for doing this.

They kissed and fucked well until the sun started rising. Killian hadn’t slept in two days and was graciously fucked for hours, yet he hadn’t felt so at peace in years, he barely cared about his exhaustion. It was like Peter’s cock in him and his lips on his performed magic, like they healed a wound Killian didn’t know he had.

“You have to go,” Peter said.

“No, please, I need you…”

“I’ll come back tonight. Just make sure to tell your friends that you had a fine night.”

“That couldn’t be more true. Wait, the exorcist-”

“He’s fine.” Peter laughed. “I just put him to sleep. I’m surprised you only thought of him now.”

Killian couldn’t even feel guilt, he was so hot and horny with Peter.

“Now go to the church like the good fake priest that you are, and I promise you I’ll fuck you so hard today you’ll never want to leave my side.”

“That is true already,” Killian whispered and leaned into him, breathing his perfect scent and caressing his soft skin.

“Be a good boy for me, Killian. Let your friends know they’re safe from me.”

“I will.”

The exorcist seemed pleased when Killian told him the half-truth, and didn’t even bother escorting him to the church. Not that Killian blamed him - he had other, truly desperate souls to save.

David seemed happy too.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you so happy since I met you,” he said.

It was true. Killian thought he’d never been happier his whole life.

So he performed his duties, and late in the afternoon he sat in the confessional, waiting for people to come to him until they were done and Killian could go back to his demon.

Through the lattice, he saw a middle-aged man walking with a cane approach. His leg seemed bad, for the man had trouble kneeling down.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

“Tell me, my child.”

“I fear they’ll listen.”

“No-one else will listen but our Lord.”

“I’m afraid that- that my father has committed something… horrible.” The man’s voice shook with fear.

“You can tell me. If you haven’t committed it yourself, you can find peace.”

“My father is an evil man, appearing younger and seducing young, desperate men. He then sends me to do the same to them.”

Well, that was a first.

“You mean, you force yourself in them?”

“Eventually.” The man’s voice had turned now, he sounded confident and even… arrogant. Before Killian knew, the man was walking in his compartment, standing tall without the help of his cane. Killian gasped and tried to move, but his body felt stiff.

“What- who are you?”

“My father is Peter. He seduced my mother long ago, like he did you, and impregnated her, which unfortunately he can’t do to you. Or maybe, fortunately, since giving birth to a demon spawn is fatal.”

“What?! Help!”

“He has many children, but I’m his favorite. He sends me after the men he can’t knock up.”

“Help! Help!”

“Oh, no use. You said it yourself, dearie. No-one can hear us.”

“No! Stop!” Killian raised his cross desperately.

“You can scream if you want. You rejected your God yesterday, let’s see if He’ll help you now.”

Killian screamed. He screamed when the demon spawn turned him around, he screamed when he violated him, he screamed when the blood running down his thighs to the floor was so much that he started slipping on it, he screamed and screamed.

And no-one listened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has some news for Killian, and Killian has a lot of troubles accepting them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction was once titled **Body Full of Sin**.
> 
> Yooooo what's up? A second chapter and two more to come? Why the hell not! 
> 
> Please take care that the tag MPreg has been added. Please, make sure you're okay with it before you continue with this chapter. You can find good info about it [here](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Mpreg).

The demon spawn left the church not long after he was done.

Killian looked around and was surprised to see that there was no blood left as he lay in the confessional, feeling broken, violated and shameful. Everything around him, even his own body parts showed no signs anymore of what had just happened to him. Except of course, of the pain. No-one would believe him if he said anything.

He got dressed carelessly and walked out. David wasn’t there. He was probably at the office, filing paperwork or whatever.

Killian limped to the exit. He felt a shiver as he walked out of the church and went on to his car. Getting into it and sitting on the driver’s seat was an ordeal, and he winced as pain in his behind overtook him, but he managed to relax, enough to drive to his block. He got out and walked to his apartment, ignoring anyone who greeted him.

He went into the shower and tried to relax under the warm water. He could still feel pain, as if that demon was still raping him. He cried softly.

Was this really happening? How was it possible? He had the terrible feeling that that demon would come again soon. Why was he thinking that? Why couldn’t he get the demon’s disgusting sounds of lust out of his head?

Realizing that he couldn’t really feel clean enough, no matter how much he washed, he covered himself with a bathrobe and went straight for his bed, burying himself under the covers.

For the next two days, he only left his bed to eat something fast and use the bathroom, then went back to the minimum comfort and protection he felt there.

David called him to ask him why he hadn’t come to work, but Killian only replied that he wasn’t feeling well. It was not a lie by any means, but he could never admit the truth to him.

The next day, when he finally felt sitting down was a little easier, he dressed into normal clothes and drove to the church. He held the rosary tight in his hand and contemplated going in. He knew he had rejected his own God, and that he had little hope He would hear him now, but a little praying wouldn’t harm anyone, would it?

Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to get out. He felt dirty, and he felt ruined. Damaged. Nothing could bring him back now, and it was his fault that he gave in the first time.

He bent over, hugged his torso and let his forehead rest on the wheel, and he cried.

Neither Peter nor his spawn visited him for days. On Saturday evening, a time he knew David wasn’t at the church, he finally got the courage to drive back to the church and get in. He felt relieved when he realized he could actually cross the threshold unharmed. He wasn’t completely ruined, after all.

He sat on a bench and crossed his hand with his prosthetic, the rosary between them.

 _Our Father, Who is in heaven,_  
_Holy is Your Name;_  
 _Your kingdom come,_  
 _Your will be done,_  
 _on earth as it is in heaven._

He recited the prayer with closed eyes, willing himself to believe in it as much as he could.

 _Give us this day our daily bread,_  
_and forgive us our sins,_  
 _as we forgive those who sin against us;_  
 _and lead us not into temptation-_

A small vibration in his hand cut his praying off. He opened his eyes and looked at the rosary in horror, as he saw the lower part of the crucifix bent sideways.

He gasped and the rosary fell from his hand. The crucifix kept benting until it was completely transformed beyond recognition.

 _That’s it,_ he thought _. He has rejected me._

He ran out of the church to his car, not realizing how much he was crying until he reached his block. He hastily wiped the tears off his face as he walked with his head down. He went immediately for his bed and wished he would never need to get out of it again.

Movement around the house woke him up at midnight. Feeling stiff from having slept in his clothes and his head hurting from his crying, he supported himself at his elbows and looked to his bedroom door.

He didn’t remember _closing_ the door earlier, and now he could see light underneath it. He could hear something being dragged from the living room...

The door opened suddenly and Killian froze at the sight of Peter resting on the doorframe. He was wearing a suit and was holding a glass goblet, already filled with a red liquid.

“I’d suppose you need something more than I do. Something probably stronger than wine, though. How long have you stayed clean, again?” Peter said and splayed his fingers towards Killian’s nightstand. Killian turned and saw a bottle of rum sitting on it, open and ready for use.

“No, no, please. Let me be,” Killian said and grabbed at his blanket in despair.

“Hmm, you see, at the end of the day, it was your choice to give yourself to me. So there’s not much I can do now.” Peter left the doorframe and walked closer to Killian’s bed.

“Not like this. I didn’t know.” A sob escaped Killian, his despair prominent in his voice.

“I’m a demon. What did you expect?” Pan said and laughed, then took a sip from his glass. “Rumple,” he said and turned at the door.

Killian froze again as he saw a man enter, dragging the armchair from the living room. He whimpered when he saw his smiling face. It was the demon spawn that had raped him in the church.

Peter sat comfortably at the chair and crossed his legs. “Come on, give me a good show.”

The demon spawn turned to Killian, his smile unwavering.

“No! No, please!”

“Rules apply here too, dearie. Scream all you want. No-one will hear you.”

And scream he did. It was horrible, even more painful than he remembered. The monster had pushed him on his belly, crying out in pleasure as he slammed and slammed into him. He was grabbing his hair, pushing half of his face into his tear-soaked pillow and forcing him to keep looking at Peter who was watching the whole thing with exuberant glee, drinking from his glass the whole time.

He knew it went on for a long time. He felt spent and devastated from the beginning, but he wasn’t allowed a moment of rest. Whenever the demon spilled inside him, he just kept going with unstoppable energy.

His voice gone hoarse from screaming, he hadn’t stopped begging them both to stop, even when the pleas came out in broken, unintelligible whispers.

Finally, the demon spilled inside him one last time, then lay down on the bed next to him, breathing hard. Peter stood up from the armchair, looking as elegant as when he first appeared that night, even after countless glasses of wine. Killian flinched and closed his eyes when he saw him raise his hand towards him, and whimpered when he felt it brush through his hair.

“What a sight,” Peter whispered. “Now rest. You’ll need it until the next time.”

And just like that, both demons were gone. Killian couldn’t even cry, he just stayed where he was, broken and dirty and used, listening to the morning bells ring somewhere far.

Some time later, having lost complete track of time, he crawled into the shower and let the water wash away the blood and release and pain. The latter didn’t disappear that easily. He couldn’t even stand, nor sit, he just lay uncomfortably on the cold tiles, crying his heart out.

He should do something. Perhaps let David know, or at least go to a hospital to get some painkillers and...

How could he? How could he get out there and admit that he’d let himself fall into a pit of continuous abuse and pain?

No, it couldn’t be just his fault. Peter had seduced him... and he hadn’t had much choice when it came to his demon spawn, had he?

Hadn’t Peter called him something? A name or... a rank? He had no idea what it was, but he couldn’t remember it no matter how much he tried to. The only thing that came to mind was the pain he’d caused him all night long. And it wouldn’t mean anything if he _did_ know his name. No-one was protecting him anymore.

He stayed in the shower long after the warm water was over, only finding the strength to turn it off when he started shivering from the cold. He struggled to stand, hastily draped a bathrobe around him and hobbled painfully to his bed. He gasped when he saw it was immaculate. No blood, no semen, no tears on the pillow... not even the smell was there anymore.

Feeling tears run down his cheeks again at the thought that he had no proof left beside his physical and emotional agony, he collapsed at the entrance of his bedroom and cried again.

He woke up with his whole body in pain. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep, and only his spit drooling out of his mouth to the floor was the proof of that. He didn’t feel any better, no rest or relief from the pain or the horrible thoughts. He stood up on shaky feet, shivering as he remembered he was only wearing the bathrobe, and looked inside the bedroom again.

His bed was cleaned and made, but his clothes from the other night were still lying in tatters next to it.

Killian felt his head ready to explode as memories assaulted him, memories of that demon ripping them off his body before he pushed him hard down on the bed and...

“No!” he cried hoarsely. No, no, he needed some air... without even bothering to put on underwear, he slipped into the first shirt and trousers he grabbed from his wardrobe, put on his shoes and ran outside. He collapsed on the stairs more than a few times before he reached the exit of the block. He pushed the door firmly and walked outside.

The cold wind only made him feel even more exposed, more vulnerable. It was late; he didn’t have his phone, what if someone attacked him?

But he couldn’t find it in himself to walk back in. He found a quiet, almost hidden spot among the parking lot and lay down there. He brought his knees as close to his chest as his aching behind allowed him, hugged his torso with his arms and cried softly.

He only stood up hours later because of his growling stomach. He still had needs to fulfill, and something told him that if he failed to do so, Peter and his spawn would come to make sure he did.

Instead the first thing he picked up when he entered his apartment was the still open bottle of rum. He downed a few gulps, feeling the burning he never forgot, welcoming it back.

He didn’t regret his decision, not even later, as he lay down on the bathroom floor, the bottle empty next to him and its contents just thrown up from Killian’s stomach into the toilet.

The days passed and all Killian could do was lie on his couch - lying on the bed was off the question after that night - eat only to appease his hunger and use the bathroom. His supplies were ending and he felt a terror at the thought that he would have to go out for groceries.

How could he face the world again?

That didn’t apply when he ran to grab a good ol’ bottle of rum or whiskey, however. With the bottle already half empty by the time he was back home, he felt like he could get to the rooftop and scream what was happening to him, for all the world to hear.

They came again next Saturday, right on midnight to Sunday. Peter sat on the armchair, crossing his legs and sipping his wine as Rumple - that was his spawn’s name - broke him apart all over again.

They left him at dawn again, and he was left in the same condition as last week, listening to the morning bells.

They came only on Saturdays, leaving him the same way, as if to remind him what he left behind.

On the fifth Saturday, Killian found the strength to drive to his church. He owed an explanation anyway. Salvation was not even a question right then.

He felt a slight pain in his stomach as he walked up the stairs to the entrance, but he ignored it. He’d been having cramps anyway, and he was lucky he could even walk after the horrors he’d been enduring.

He couldn’t ignore though the burning fire that blasted inside him as soon as he crossed the threshold. He cried desperately and took an instinctive step backwards. The pain subsided mostly, leaving a small burning feeling behind.

It was nothing to the terror he felt as he saw David’s horrified face, looking at him through the entrance.

“Killian...” he whispered and reached for the crucifix hanging from his neck.

It was enough to send Killian running away in shock.

He couldn’t step inside the church. The demons had infected him, and now he was seen as a threat by David too. He had no idea how he had the vigor to run, he already felt his hips protest from the strain, but he only ran and ran, until the nausea that had bothered him since that morning got the best of him. He fell on his knees as far from people as he could and threw up.

Only the shame of being in public gave him the motivation to get back on his feet. He still felt terribly nauseated and cramped, but the only thing on his mind was that he was too unsanctified to walk on holy ground anymore.

With little thought that he’d left his car outside the church, he merely walked back to his apartment and collapsed on his bed.

It was Saturday. He’d only wanted to ask for some help, just in case someone could offer it...

The feeling of someone’s fingers brushing through his hair startled him awake. It was only Peter, this time wearing simple clothes and sitting on Killian’s bed with a soft smile on his face.

“Wakey, wakey. I heard you tried to reach your God today.”

Killian shivered and tried to pull away from the touch. Peter let him, and he sat up on the bed, wincing.

“Why did this happen suddenly? I... I went into the church after... the first... and then your... your son...”

Peter shook his head lightly. “It wasn’t _you_ that the ‘holy’,” he made a face at the word before continuing, “grounds tried to harm.”

“What then?”

Peter lowered his gaze and touched his hand on Killian’s lower stomach. “Why, this little thing growing inside of you.”

Killian blinked at him. “What? Wha- no.”

“You’ve been having cramps and nausea, haven’t you?”

Killian shook his head frantically. “No, no, no. How - how is this possible?” he stuttered between heavy breaths.

“I’m a demon,” Peter said and shrugged. “Anything’s possible. Like this thing.” He snapped his fingers.

Killian found himself naked, lying down on the bed on his back. There were chains around his ankles and his wrists, even holding his severed left arm in place though it should have easily slipped off. The chains pulled at his limbs, forcing his legs open in a painful position, and Killian gasped in pain and shock.

“Normally, we can only impregnate women,” Peter whispered as he stood above him, naked as well. “But my Rumple is special, different from my other spawns, and therefore my favorite.” He bent forward, getting too close to Killian’s face. “He can impregnate men.” His smile was fierce and cold and sent shivers throughout all of Killian’s body. “So don’t worry, you’re not really the first one to go through this. It has happened a lot before.”

“Please...” Killian begged weakly, tears of shock running down his face. “Leave me be.”

“What’s done is done, my dear,” Pan replied and sat between his legs.

“Peter, please. Don’t do this…”

“Stop calling me Peter,” he hissed. “Such a ridiculous nickname, hearing it in your thoughts all the time. My real name is Pan.” He moved forward and kissed Killian’s wet and frozen lips. “Mmm. I quite missed you.”

Killian didn’t even scream that night. The pain was the same, and though Pan was very inventive of ways to make him suffer more, only so that Pan could laugh at him, the shock and the fear settled deep down in Killian’s mind and he couldn’t react at all.

It was only early in the morning that he finally did. Pan had just finished, and he threw himself all over him. Killian could feel his frantic pants as well as the low chuckle at the sound of the bells.

“The bells ring for the faithful,” Pan said. “But you’re not one of them now, are you?” He caressed Killian’s cheek with his knuckles, letting his hand rest on his neck, and Killian finally started sobbing.

If he really thought on it, he still had a tiny burning feeling in his stomach.

Pan left without making the chains go away.

The nightmares later came at full force. He saw Hellfire, he saw suffering, tormented, cursed souls screaming for help. Liam and Milah begging him to save them. And a small creature, sometimes deep red, sometimes black, grasping at him and stealing his breath, leaving him broken, weak, begging for death.

He finally woke up screaming. He was still naked, still chained down on his bed, his blood and Pan’s release all around his sheets. His body ached from his painful position and he was bruised where the chains were squeezing him. But he couldn’t get his eyes off his stomach. Could it really be true? How could he even know? Was his stomach really gonna start growing? How would it even work?

The chains didn’t disappear until the next night. Killian wheezed from the pain, barely able to move his body after being held in such a painful position for so long. His hand went to his stomach, helplessly trying to catch any movement from... inside. He knew it was probably too early for that but, him carrying a child - a _demon_ \- wasn’t normal at all. Who knew how different this would be for him.

It shocked him. He was going to bear a child, a very demon. He was going to give _birth_ to it - how could that even happen? How would it-

He sighed, mind and soul too weary to focus on such questions. He just needed to get help somehow.

But who would believe him? David was the closest thing he had to a friend, and he wouldn’t even trust him anymore.

Perhaps if he went to a doctor, asking for help to remove it...

He felt a pang in his stomach, unrelated to whatever might be growing there. He knew the Church’s stance on abortion, he’d spent years following it, and though he knew that this creature was as unholy as any of its predecessors and was practically possessing him, he felt guilty at the idea of killing it.

He crawled himself painfully into a ball and sobbed himself to sleep.

He woke up in pain, parched, and starving. Sundays were always like that, him waking at random hours and feeling like death, barely able to lift from his stained bed to attend to his body’s needs.

He thought that, at least, if he couldn’t remove it, he ought at least to know what it was, and what it would do to him. But he couldn’t do much during the following days, as the shock overwhelmed him and Pan’s assault was significantly worse than Rumple’s.

The week went by too fast for his liking, and he was still healing from Pan’s torments when Rumple appeared right in front of him next Saturday.

Killian startled, sitting up in bed and trying to move away.

“No, no, please,” he said. “You did what you had to do, please leave me be.”

“Now why would I do that? You’re such a pleasure to use. Why should my father get all the fun?”

“Please, no. I’m... I’m carrying…” Killian breathed hard, unable to utter the words that had been plaguing his mind all week long. He glanced at his stomach. “Please.”

“Oh, I know, I know.” Rumple reached forward and caressed Killian’s hair. Killian whimpered and closed his eyes, a few tears squeezing through them. “We don’t usually bother our hosts after knocking them up, but you’re simply...“ he leaned in and put his lips on his hair, breathing him in before adding, “... irresistible.”

Killian started sobbing. His tired, pained body couldn’t resist Rumple’s assaults, as he rid him of his clothes, then pushed him on his stomach and prepared to enter him. But Rumple only started toying with him, touching the head of his cock to Killian’s rear and pushing it in only a little, then drawing back, over and over again.

“Please...” Killian said.

“Mmm?” Rumple said between pants.

“Just get... get on with... with it.”

Rumple laughed. “You want me to fuck you properly? Can’t stand the teasing of my cock in your ass?”

Killian whimpered in response. Rumple continued his teasing for hours. Each second was a small push and pull. Each tick from the clock on Killian’s bedside table was a stab of pain in his ass. He closed his eyes, burying half of his face in his tear soaked pillow, leaving out only as much as he needed to keep breathing.

He vaguely wondered if it mattered whether he could breathe or not.

And then, without a single warning, Rumple pushed all his length inside him with force, and Killian screamed into his pillow. He felt Rumple’s hands grab his buttocks hard, digging his nails into his flesh, and then him drawing back and entering him again with the same force. Killian already felt the blood around his hole, slicking the tissue so that Rumple was entering him with more ease now.

“Stop! Please!” Killian screamed, but Rumple’s only response were moans and pants of pleasure.

After some more painful time, he felt Rumple spill inside him and pull off... and to his horror, also felt him reach down to his hole with his mouth, sucking. Killian tensed and screamed, but a hard punch delivered at his lower back forced him to relax, and Rumple kept on sucking. He then grabbed Killian’s hair and turned his face towards him.

Killian’s lips started trembling when he saw the bloody smile on the demon’s face. Rumple leaned in and opened his mouth against Killian’s, forcing blood and cum inside. Killian screamed through his nose and thrashed around, but with one move Rumple pulled away and... Killian found he couldn’t open his mouth. It was closed shut, and no matter what he tried, even pulling with his own hand, his lips wouldn’t detach from each other.

Rumple turned him on his back. Killian felt bile rise in his throat in disgust of what Rumple had put inside his mouth forcing him to swallow it, and he couldn’t stop it in time. He heaved forward, but his mouth still wouldn’t open, so part of his vomit went out of his nostrils and rolled down his chin and neck to his chest. The rest of it, along with his blood and Rumple’s cum were still in his mouth, forcing him to blow his cheeks to hold it all.

“Swallow it, dearie. Perhaps it’ll be good for the baby,” Rumple said, caressing Killian’s hair with both his hands.

Killian trembled, realizing that Rumple wouldn’t let him open his mouth until he swallowed, and the more he left the horrible mix there, the more disgusting it felt. Knowing he had no other choice, he swallowed, wincing at the horrendous taste and feeling down his throat. He finally managed to open his mouth then, only to let out a sob.

“There, there,” Rumple said. Still holding onto his hair, he forced Killian to sit and guided his head to rest on his bare chest as he trembled and cried. His position was pushing at his bleeding ass, making the pain even worse than before. Killian kept crying uncontrollably as Rumple caressed his hair and back, pretending to mutter words of comfort to him.

He was so tired. He barely had time to heal enough before either of them came to rip him apart all over again. Every time they came, he was getting worse and worse.

“How long?” Killian breathed through his sobs.

“How long what, sweetheart?” Rumple said and turned to leave a kiss on his hair.

“How long will... you keep... doing this?” His voice was shaking.

He felt Rumple’s laugh shake his chest lightly.

“How long will we keep coming and raping you? I guess, as long as we can.”

“Please.”

“Nuh-huh.” He pulled away a little to look into Killian’s tear-stained eyes. Killian couldn’t stop looking - and trembling - at the sight of his own blood around Rumple’s mouth. “You need to understand that this is how we work. It’s not our fault you’re so enjoyable, broken and pleading like this.”

As if on cue, Killian sobbed.

“And deep down, it is your fault. You let us right in.”

“No...“ Killian said weakly and closed his eyes as more tears came.

“Yes... You chose us, well my father to be fair, but if you really wanted your Lord’s protection, you would have it.”

Killian’s heart sank. How could he _not_ want to be protected at that moment? He was suffering, living a Hell right where he was.

Instead, Rumple pushed him back into his arms and caressed his hair like he was some kind of a fucking pet, hurt and asking for attention.

“There, there,” he said again in a mock soothing voice. “Poor dearie, you remind me of babies in desperate need of a pacifier.”

Killian finally found the strength to push him back, away from him. He suddenly felt a flash of anger rush through him.

But Rumple was only smiling. “I don’t have a pacifier, but it’s close enough.” And then he grabbed his member and started rubbing.

“No! No! Get out!” Killian tried to move, but Rumple was sitting on his thighs, moving higher to push him back on the bed and sit right on his hips. Killian screamed as Rumple pushed his aching ass down on the mattress, and could only watch as his member went hard again.

Rumple panted. “There,” he said, grabbing his member with one hand and Killian’s hair with the other. “Suck on this for daddy.” Killian froze.

It all lasted a second, but it was as immobilizing as ever. One only word took him back, to his father’s angry face, to the abuse he’d endured from him, to his fear of him, to the cigarette burns still visible on his back... He had never raped him, of course, but all that pain felt significantly bigger to a child as young as he had been.

And as soon as the flashbacks were over, Killian felt Rumple’s member slide inside his mouth, making him gag. Instinctively, his hand reached up to remove it and his teeth bit down on it. It felt as if he was biting down on rocks.

“Ah, that won’t... do, so try all you... want. Oh fucking hell...“

Killian couldn’t even sob anymore. Rumple’s member went all the way down to his throat, nearly choking him with his thrusts. Killian shook and cried silently, the only sounds in the room being Rumple’s gasps and moans, the popping sound of his cock in his mouth, the creaking of his bed, and that bloody tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock...

The next thing Killian registered was Rumple pulling off, spilling cum on his face and mouth. Then he passed out, having a nightmare whose only detail he remembered was pain and a ticking clock.

He woke up later, the only indication it was early afternoon being his blasted clock, and for a moment he didn’t realize why he hated it so much and why his room was _stinking_ so much.

It wouldn’t be the first Sunday he woke up not remembering half of the things that had happened. But this time it simply felt weird. He smelt something more than release, something worse... Then he took a glance sideways, to the full-length mirror facing him. He saw the dried blood on his lips and the vomit that had run down his chin and it all came back to him.

He barely managed to lean over the side of the bed before his previously swallowed vomit made a reappearance. It burned, coming out of his nostrils as well. When he finished, feeling like he’d thrown up his entire stomach, he looked at the result and shivered. Among the bile he could see the blood and the release from earlier. He whimpered before a second round came up, shorter this time but as forceful and exhausting as the first.

He let his head fall onto the bed, staying in an awkward position as he fought to take control of his breathing and frantic heartbeat. He needed to clean up... he needed to stand up...

He needed help.

Next Thursday he felt strong enough to drive to a hospital further away, where he hoped no one would recognize him and no one would pay him enough attention to remember him.

After he parked and killed the machine, he grasped desperately at the wheel. Sitting down, even walking was still too painful. He’d have to hobble through the parking lot, then through the corridors in order to reach the secretary, then to wherever they would send him for his appointment.

But he had to see. Judging by his calculations, the... fetus was around five to six weeks old. The research he’d fearfully done on the subject had told him an ultrasound would show it clearly. He had to see. Perhaps he could get help this way.

Breathing deep, he exited his car and walked slowly to the hospital, trying to cover his limping. After long explanations about stomach pain and bloating - the last one was nothing but true - he was finally brought into a room, a nurse asking him to raise his shirt. He trembled a little when the doctor came in and prepared the machine.

“Calm down. We’ll get to see what’s wrong with you,” she said.

Her tone did nothing to help him relax. He resigned to watch her as she squeezed gel onto the transducer and held his breath while she brought it close to his skin. He gasped at the cold touch when it made contact, and closed his eyes, fearing the doctor’s reaction.

But the doctor was silent. No gasped breaths, no screams, nothing. He opened his eyes and saw her searching the display, confusion settling on her brows after a while.

“I don’t see anything wrong,” she said after a full minute of searching his stomach up and down.

“What?” he said without thinking.

“Apparently it’s not something we can see with an ultrasound. Perhaps you should appoint for a blood test and an MRI-”

“You’re not seeing anything there?” he said, pointing at the display. How could it... did Pan trick him? But he’d already felt nausea, fatigue and bloating even before he’d told him.

“No. Have you taken any other tests?”

Admittedly, perhaps the first thing he should have done was take a pregnancy test - as much as the idea absolutely terrified him.

“No. B-but, tell me something. A p-pregnancy would show five weeks in, right?”

The doctor raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

Killian sighed in confusion.

“Do you think you’re pregnant?” She didn’t appear to be judging him, only curious. Killian consoled himself with the thought that she only asked because she wanted to help him. It was her job, after all.

“Yes,” he said, lowering his eyes.

“Couvade?” the nurse asked her.

“We’ll see. Now, mister Jones, I need to ask you some questions. Were you born male?”

He flinched. Of course she would try to convince him it wasn’t possible. Even if he allowed them to help, he would have to also tell them that he was being raped... with no physical signs but a slight limp to show for it.

He felt tears prickle his eyes. “I need to leave,” he said and threw his legs off the bed.

“Wait a moment. If it’s sympathetic pregnancy, we’ll need to-”

“I don’t care. I have to go.”

He ignored everything else they said, even when the nurse ran off after him.

“Are you alright, sir? You’re limping.”

He turned to look at her and the nurse gasped, taking a step back. He couldn’t understand why she did and he didn’t care. He walked away without looking back.

When he entered his car, he wasn’t surprised to see Pan appear out of nowhere in the passenger seat. He only looked around to make sure nobody had seen him.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Pan said.

“Is it true? Am I really carrying your spawn?”

“Grand-spawn, to be specific, but yes. Why would I lie to you?” he chuckled and turned on his seat towards him.

“To creep me out. To scare me out of asking for help. To make me think I was going to die.” Killian was still looking far ahead.

“Oh, you _are_ going to die, sadly. But I guess you’ll see for yourself when your belly starts growing and you start to feel the baby kick.”

Killian swallowed hard at all the information. He was going to... to feel the creature inside him... he would eventually look the part... and he wouldn’t survive the end of this torture.

His breathing went faster, and he closed his eyes as he gripped hard on the wheel.

“Hey, it’s okay... I can make sure it’s fast, if you want,” Pan said coolly and caressed Killian’s cheek with his knuckles. Killian couldn’t even move. He only opened his eyes to look at someone staring at them through his car window.

A feeling of shame washed over him at the fact that he saw them this way, and then the man turned to his side and started yelling. He rushed out of the car and threw himself on the ground, hitting the burning arm of his jacket on it to extinguish the flames.

He managed it before any big harm was done, and then he looked at them both, terror covering his face when he looked at Pan and then he ran towards the hospital.

“Why did you do that?” Killian asked.

“Oh, I didn’t. If it were me the car would have exploded, with him still looking at us.” He lowered his hand from Killian’s cheek to lay it flat on his stomach. Killian’s eyes followed the movement. “Seems this one is a little timid with her powers yet.”

“Her? It’s a girl? Can you see her?” He looked up back at him.

Pan nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips as he stroked Killian’s stomach.

“And sh- she has powers?”

“Why did you think the nurse lost her shit earlier?”

Killian looked at him apprehensively.

“Your daughter made your eyes look all black for a few seconds, and the nurse was creeped out.”

Killian froze at the word daughter, and didn’t move as Pan adjusted the rearview mirror so that Killian could see his reflection on it. “Come on, sweetheart. Show your papa what you’re worth.”

Indeed, Killian saw his own pupils dilate and cover his irises and scleras until the whole of both of his eyes looked black. He shivered and whimpered softly, and his eyes returned to normal.

“I’d suggest you be careful with your interactions,” Pan said as Killian lowered his gaze and placed his hand next to Pan’s on his stomach. “Who knows how she’ll react in public if another person bothers you.”

“Please leave,” Killian whispered, and then he was alone. He leaned forward, keeping his hand on his stomach and wrapping his other arm around him, and cried silently in horror.

He was carrying a demon inside him.

That fact obviously didn’t deter Pan and Rumple from hurting him.

S-It was unpredictable. It could harm others, and he’d have to isolate himself.

He was going to die.

“Please, leave. Leave me alone,” he repeated in a shaky voice, hand still on his stomach. “Leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to give a big hat-tip to [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12585444). If it weren't for it, I wouldn't be inspired to write this continuation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I kinda dislike the title of this fic, but I don't want to change it again since I've already changed it before. Also, that was supposed to be the penultimate chapter, but surprise, it's not! I didn't want to dump a 8k or something worded chapter, so I broke it in two. And then I probably got a few ideas for one or two more chapters, so it's definitely not gonna be four chapters as I'd intended. Enjoy.

Some long minutes passed, and when his whole back side hurt too much for him to handle, he unwrapped himself and started the car.

He drove away. He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, only that he wasn’t going back home.

He drove for many hours, having no idea where he’d ended up, and pulled over at a motel when he started feeling his eyes close. It wouldn’t do good to fall asleep while driving.

From the looks of it, it probably wasn’t the best choice. But he was tired and he needed to get away. He got the cheapest room available and collapsed on the bed. He set an alarm for six hours and fell into a troubled, nightmarish sleep.

The next day he filled up his car with gas, not pitying the decreasing amount of money on his bank account. Having quit a week ago, he didn’t really have much to spare, but he couldn’t care less at that point. He drove on as far away as he could, again until he felt too exhausted to keep on.

Deciding that it would be better for his pained body to sleep on a bed, even a cheap one instead of inside his car, he rented a room in a worse-looking motel this time.

He woke up in cold sweat the next morning. It was Saturday. He had less than twenty-four hours before Pan and Rumple would come looking for him. Desperate, he ran to his car and drove away at full speed. He only realized hours on the way that he had barely eaten since Thursday morning, before he went for the ultrasound. His stomach was growling audibly, and he wondered if he indeed was supposed to be eating for two now.

He kept driving, only taking a three-hour break once to rest in the car.

At eleven in the night - or was it ten? Or nine? He had no idea how many time zones he’d crossed - he finally gave into his hunger and pulled over at a diner. Exhausted, he sat down carefully on an uncomfortable chair and looked around. There were no clocks in the room. He silently cursed the lack of them, but also felt relief at the fact that he wouldn’t have to think of the tick-tock. His phone had been dead for almost a day now, so he couldn’t use his GPS either.

Finally, he spotted an old woman reading a newspaper in the table next to his. So, unless that woman was a tourist or enjoyed finding papers from other places, they were in Idaho. Killian shivered. He’d driven all the way from New York to almost the other side of the country, and he’d be willing to drive all the way to Pacific Coast if he could. But even if he was trying to avoid reaching midnight, he doubted he’d make it to there before the demons came for him.

Would they even come now? He didn’t doubt they could find him, they were demons after all and he was carrying their offspring-

“Sir?”

He looked up, and seeing the confused look at the waiter’s face he realized he’d been probably calling after him for a few times before Killian even heard him.

Killian ordered and stayed tucked in his chair as he waited for his food. The waiter finally arrived with his burger, and even though he was late he dropped them on the table gracelessly and looked at Killian with bitterness before he walked away... and thrashed around, frantically tapping his feet on the floor to put out the flames that had erupted in his soles.

“Shit,” Killian whispered and looked at his stomach. “Please don’t do that.” Instead the flames only got stronger, and a waitress walked in with a fire extinguisher, spraying white foam onto the poor waiter’s feet.

Killian put a few bills on the table with a shaky hand, and without bothering to check the amount he picked up his food and walked to his car. He didn’t dare look at any passers-by around him, he only focused on eating his food and calming his extremely tense nerves down.

About an hour later he resorted to renting a motel room. He couldn’t outrun them forever, and if they came to rape him, he’d rather it happened on a bed.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought that he was already accepting his cruel fate.

Pan found him sitting on the bed, face in his hand, crying softly. Killian already knew he was there before he felt his thin, bare arms hug his torso from behind.

“You should have known better,” he whispered in his ear. “I should punish you for thinking you could get away.”

Killian trembled to think what a punishment from him would include, considering everything Pan was already doing to him.

“What do you think?” Pan said and left kisses on his neck, sucking at a few places. “Do you think you deserve forgiveness this time?” Killian didn’t respond as Pan kept kissing him. “Answer me,” he said and bit down on his neck. Killian gasped, his lips trembling, but he still kept silent. Pan’s hand reached up and grasped around Killian’s neck, not hard enough to steal his breath but enough to cause discomfort. “Answer me, my dirty whore.”

“Yes,” he whispered shakily.

“Yes what?” Pan didn’t remove his hand.

“Forg- forgive me, pl- please.”

“Huh. You really have a way with words, don’t you?” He drew back his arms and walked around, positioning himself on Killian’s lap. Killian hissed at the pressure their position put on his ass. “But why would you deserve my forgiveness?” Pan closed the distance between them and left a chaste kiss on Killian’s trembling, wet lips. “You were considering murdering my spawn, your own daughter, before she even got a chance at life, and you ran away from your little brothel and forced me to come looking for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Killian said and sobbed.

Pan kissed him again, a little longer this time. “Hmm. Why is it that you ask forgiveness only after I accuse you of your crimes?”

“I’m sorry... please...“ Killian managed to look up at him as tears fell from his eyes.

Pan shushed him softly and wiped away the tears. “The things you do to me... if only you knew... if only _I_ knew why the hell I allow you to...“ He then kissed him deeply, pushing him down on the bed and pushing his tongue into his mouth. Killian had no willpower to not allow him the move, he only cried against him, his tears running down his temples to the blanket and his sobs echoing in Pan’s mouth.

Pan moved, positioning himself in such a way so he could rub his genitals against Killian’s. Killian whimpered in response to Pan moaning against his mouth. Pan simply kept kissing him, assaulting his mouth every way he could. Killian felt the demon’s member grew hard against him. He started shivering, and then Pan stopped kissing him and pushed him to lie normally on the bed. With one swift move, he removed all of Killian’s clothing and winced.

“You haven’t taken a bath since you left home, have you?”

Killian squeezed his eyes closed, suddenly becoming aware of his bad hygiene but not finding himself to care.

“You’ll definitely need one after I’m done with you today.”

Pan grabbed Killian’s legs and threw them over his shoulders. Killian gasped and looked at him through his tears. He hadn’t... done that before...

“First time for everything, I suppose. I just want to look at your face today.”

He wasn’t lying. Whenever Killian gathered the courage to look at the demon’s face, he was staring back at him and smiling - over the ecstatic pleasure on his face. A few times Pan threw his head back as he groaned, but then he brought it back and looked back at him. He had wrapped his arms around Killian’s legs and despite his initial disgust at the smell, he was running his hands up and down on them, occasionally kissing and biting on the skin there.

Killian could hear someone hitting at the wall behind the bed and shouting at them to keep quiet. Pan ignored him, but after a while Killian heard Pan say, “Fucking pest.” He then felt him pull away, a disgusting popping sound accompanying the relief of the pain. Pan rubbed his sweat-soaked face with his hand, then stood up and walked out of the room, still pantless and his cock still hard. He left the door open and Killian felt a terror settle over him at the idea of being seen like this.

It only got worse when he felt something warm and more solid than blood leak from his ass. He immediately clenched and gasped, mortified tears leaving his eyes. But the damage had already been done.

He gasped again at the sound of shrieks from the other room and inadvertently relaxed his lower muscles, allowing more shit to leak onto the blanket. He then heard a loud _thump_ against the wall, and then silence.

More tears fell and this time he didn’t know which feeling of all prompted them. Pan returned, cock still hard and bouncing with his step and a satisfied smile on his face.

“You’re lucky he bore the brunt of my anger for you,” he said and startled at the sight. Killian drew his arms close to his chest, his legs still hurting too much to bring them together and cover his mess.

Pan simply shook his head and dragged the blanket out of under Killian, then threw it to the floor before he took the same position and entered Killian again.

Killian could see the sun starting to rise by the time Pan finished for the last time. He threw Killian’s legs off his shoulders and let his sweaty body fall on top of Killian’s, breathing hard against him.

His hand caressed his cheek absentmindedly as he spoke.

“Would you like me to take you back home? I can also get your car there.”

Killian couldn’t think. He was too tired and his mind was too numb from the assault. Pan turned and raised a little on his elbows so they could look at each other, even if Killian’s gaze went straight to the ceiling.

“I’m just thinking, do you have the money to rent this room for however many days you’ll need to heal until you can drive again? Plus, trust me, you don’t want to be called in as a witness for what I did to that fucker in the next room. Also plus,” he dropped his head on Killian’s chest again, “I’m pretty sure even in a motel as dirty as this they’ll want an explanation for what you did to their blanket. And sheets, to be honest.”

Killian simply closed his eyes. Any moment that demon wasn’t raping him was a moment to be treasured by him, even if he could feel every inch of his member still inside him.

“Please,” he whispered.

Pan reached over and kissed Killian’s unresponding lips, biting a little at his bottom one. Killian didn’t even react when Pan drew blood.

“You were a good boy today, I must admit. Plus the whole ‘fucking in a dirty motel in the middle of nowhere and murdering a random guy’ thing made the whole night quite an experience. So I guess you deserve the favor of getting you back to your warm bed. And since I’m feeling a little generous, I’ll also remove your name from the motel’s records. You can thank me later.”

Pan kissed his lips again, and then Killian was on his bed back in New York, alone. Still dirty and hurting, but alone.

The last thing on his mind at that moment was gratitude for the demon. He painfully turned on his side and hoped nothing more would leak out of his ass while he tried to rest.

He couldn’t help but cry at the sound of the morning bells and the tick-tock of his clock.

Pan wasn’t kidding. A few days later, Killian found the courage to search for the man Pan had murdered at the motel - unknown attacker, no witnesses - and there was no mention of himself and no calls from the police.

He shivered. If nothing else, that meant it would do Killian no good if he reported the weekly assaults. It would probably only lead to the demons getting angry at him and punishing him harder.

That night was a quiet one - that meant, he just lay still in his bed, feeling empty and lifeless, instead of crying his heart out until his exhaustion got the best of him.

And Rumple still came that Saturday.

After he was done, he turned Killian on his back, then started caressing his still flat belly. Killian saw the demon’s face change from one of ecstatic pleasure to one of sweet care, and that change was enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut and start crying hard.

Rumple had left long before Killian ran out of tears to shed.

Sometimes Killian looked at his phone and silently begged for someone to call him. The majority of his friends were ones he’d made through his work, and giving up on priesthood, no matter the reason, was not something people like them looked upon with approval. Killian knew that once he’d used to think like that too.

So he was left without anyone to call him and ask if he was alright.

Not even David.

But then, what would he even tell them? How would he explain his absence, his cautiousness, the way he flinched away at any kind of touch, the way he could barely walk normally most days?

He kept track of the time. It creeped the hell out of him, but his mind couldn’t help it. But something else creeped him out even further, around the time the thing inside him must have been ten weeks old.

The bump in his stomach.

He nearly passed out from the shock, coming down on his knees and staying there, looking at nothing as he tried to realize what was happening to him. A bump... he was actually going to look the part...

It shocked him so completely that he forgot it was Saturday, so he froze in his bed when he felt a warm hand reach under his shirt and rest over his stomach.

“The perks of visiting you once a week,” Rumple said as he started running his palm around Killian’s stomach. “I get to see the change a little more clearly.”

Killian still couldn’t move, he only felt tears escape his eyes. Rumple grabbed his shoulder and pushed him on his back. Killian’s arms flew backwards and were secured to the wall with chains, as Rumple dragged his pants off him and pulled his shirt higher, revealing his stomach.

Killian looked at his naked body in shock. The bump wasn’t clearly visible, yet, but he still felt the difference when Rumple’s hands rested on it.

“Oh, baby,” Rumple murmured and leaned over, leaving a tender kiss to Killian’s stomach.

Killian couldn’t take his eyes off him, he could only feel tears spill from his eyes as panic took over his mind.

Rumple exposed himself quickly, then threw Killian’s legs over his shoulders and entered him hard. Killian threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and crying in pain. Rumple picked up pace quickly, his pleasured gasps sending Killian’s mind reeling.

Rumple’s hands stayed on Killian’s stomach the whole time. When Rumple finished he pulled out, spilling cum on Killian’s genitals, then grabbed his legs and turned him on his side, releasing his arms from the chains. He lay down behind him, put his one arm above Killian’s head, his free hand on his stomach, then entered him again.

Killian’s mind was too numb from pain and misery to realize how softer Rumple was actually taking it this time. Thrusting slowly, still painfully but significantly less than earlier, he caressed Killian’s stomach with such care and softness it made Killian sick. Rumple leaned his head closer to Killian’s nape and left slow, lazy kisses.

That time, Killian felt it fully when Rumple finished. With his body against his back, he felt him shivering from his orgasm and sighing heavily between his shoulder blades. However, he stayed inside him, and simply kept kissing his nape and shoulders as his hand was still caressing his stomach.

Killian wanted to vomit. He felt the disgust run up his throat, but nothing came, even as Rumple stayed like that, inside him and caressing him, for hours, until finally the ominous toll of the bells was heard and he disappeared.

As Killian struggled to wash later, he realized he couldn’t get warm enough even though the water was almost scalding hot. He lay uncomfortably on the shower floor, his legs and hip too weak to support his full weight, and shivered as he waited for the blood and Rumple’s fluids to be washed away.

The only warmth he could feel was the one of his tears as they ran down his cheeks, quickly to be replaced with the freezing feel of the shower water.

When done, he crawled trembling to his bed, and struggled to climb up - falling down two times - before he managed to settle himself on it. He carelessly folded his comforter in two and nested himself under it, starting to sob when he realized it wasn’t enough to warm him.

Feeling too cold and too much in pain, he didn’t manage to sleep for many long hours.

The beginning of his weeks were always like that, him waking up at odd hours and having no idea what day it was, and even if he did know, he usually couldn’t get up and walk until at least Tuesday evening.

And then, of course, he had to get himself something to eat. He didn’t dare look too much at his body, let alone in the mirror, but only by the way the sleeves of his shirts and the trousers of his pants felt bigger around his arms and legs, he knew he was losing weight. No wonder since he spent at least two days of the week eating almost nothing.

However, a true shock overtook him the day he realized that he couldn’t button his pants as easily. He finally took a good look at his stomach... and froze when he saw that the bump was definitely visible.

He stayed there, for many long minutes, staring at his unnaturally changing body. He felt an impulse to touch it, to feel the creature beneath. But he drew his hand back, then went straight to his bed and cried silently.

When he woke up, it was late morning, and he suddenly felt full of a strange determination - he had to do something, finally. He couldn’t just sit by. He rose from his bed, buttoned his pants despite the pressure it put on his bel- stomach, and walked to the kitchen, picking up the longest and sharpest knife he had. He gripped it tightly, then turned it to touch the tip on his skin. His hand started to shake.

No, no, he couldn’t do this. He was too scared to die, even with how horrible his life had turned out. He knew that he was going to Hell anyway, so perhaps he could avoid it for as long as he could…

He wrapped the knife with some kitchen paper, put it in a plastic bag, then finished dressing and walked out to his car. He knew of a clinic nearby. It would be a quick, clean stab, then he would scream, and they would find him... besides, he wouldn’t be hurting any internal organs, only that... thing…

He parked the car outside the clinic and stared at the bag on the passenger’s seat. A quick, clean stab. That would be all, and he’d be free.

He picked it up and walked out. The thing inside him, it couldn’t be human... with those powers and that lineage and... it wouldn’t be a crime, would it?

He walked around the corner, where no-one could see him. He pulled the knife out and pulled his shirt up with his stump - he barely wore his prosthetic anymore, too much of a hassle to put it on, and for what reason anyway? Why would he have to pretend he was less broken than he really was?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he touched the tip of the knife on his stomach. A few more breaths.

He’d just have to push the damn thing in, and it’d be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really enjoying your kudos. But leaving a comment/review once in a while is good too :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously...
> 
> Killian was a priest who was seduced by the literal demon Pan. This got him in a horrible situation of becoming the completely unwilling toy of Pan and his son, Rumple. Rumple impregnated Killian and now Killian is struggling to understand and accept the creature he's carrying. Last we saw of him, he was growing a baby bump and was ready to drive a knife through it to end his torment.

With a swift move, Killian pushed the knife through skin and muscle. He clenched his jaw against the pain, but the knife wouldn’t go deep. He felt the blood run down his waist as he pushed harder. He opened his eyes and saw the wide gash, bleeding freely as he kept pushing, trying to penetrate through whatever _fucking_ thing was still protecting it…

He shouted out and thrashed, moving the knife around and giving himself an even bigger gash, deeper around the edges, but without managing to really go through. The knife slipped from his bloody fingers and he collapsed, bleeding heavily.

He looked up as two figures appeared above him.

It was them, Pan and Rumple, looking at him with disdain. “Did you really think it would be that easy?” Pan said and waved his hand. A purple glow emitted from it, and Killian felt the pain go away. He looked down and saw that the injury, along with all the blood, had disappeared.

He didn’t have time to look up at Pan again though, as he felt a foot collide with his face. And his chest, and legs, and back, and shoulders - anywhere in a safe distance from his lower stomach.

They left him bleeding even worse than before. His whole body hurt, he couldn’t open one eye and he was spitting blood by the time he heard someone run towards him.

“Sir! Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Killian opened his one working eye, and through the haze of pain he saw a young man lean over him and check him out for further injuries.

“You need a doctor! Can you stand or should I tell the clinic around the-”

“Help me… stand,” Killian muttered, spitting out a bit of blood.

“Are you sure you can? On your own?” The man appeared truly worried.

“Yes,” Killian answered. If only he knew how worse he’d had it…

The man nodded and grabbed Killian’s arm, wrapping it over his shoulders. He pulled him up and Killian whimpered in pain at the movement. He couldn’t support himself, so he fell limply against the young man.

“It’s okay. The doctors at the clinic can help you.”

Killian coughed a little, feeling more blood reach his mouth, and let the man lead him there, his head lolling with every step.

He dozed out for a few moments, and then he was sitting down in a small waiting room, the young man standing in front of him. They were alone.

“It’s okay, a doctor is coming right now,” the man said.

Killian nodded. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

The man put his hand on Killian’s shoulder softly. “Oh, I did. It was a pity, you lying there, beaten up like that…”

Killian stared at him, trying to drown the feeling of hate over the man feeling pity for him.

“Who did this to you?” the man asked.

“Oh... I don't know,” Killian replied weakly. “Two men... they ran away.” He looked away, embarrassed at having to lie to him. Would the police come and ask him about it? Would he lie to them?

_Thou shalt not bear false witness..._

“It's okay now,” the man said. “I can stay here, and take care of you.”

Killian swallowed hard. What the hell was he saying?

“You really don’t have to, boy. I’ll get better…”

Killian’s voice died on his lips when the man put his other hand on Killian’s other shoulder. He froze as he saw his face turn from worried to excited.

“But we don’t want that, do we? Pan knows very well I like them bloody and weak.” 

Pan? What the- 

“Name’s Felix, by the way. You can cry as much as you want. I’m sure you’re used to your screams not being heard. Though I doubt you’ll manage to make any loud sound with my dick in your mouth.”

Killian couldn’t move. Felix put one hand behind Killian’s head, grabbing his hair, and with the other he unzipped his pants, grabbed his flaccid member and rubbed hard and fast. Killian came to and tried to move away, but his beaten and bruised body and Felix’s grip on his hair didn’t allow him any movement at all. Felix grew hard, then grabbed at Killian’s hair with both hands and drove his erection right into Killian’s mouth, pushing it down his throat.

Killian choked. He tried to raise his hand, but a sharp pain in it didn’t let him move it. He squeezed his eye shut, feeling tears sting in both of them. He felt like vomiting and struggled to breathe through his broken nose as Felix pushed deeper. He felt something warm leak out of his nostrils - blood, he supposed. Felix grabbed his head tighter, and Killian gasped weakly as he felt his fingers poke at wounds in his scalp.

He could hear Felix’s moans and they only gave him a stronger urge to puke. If he had half a mind he would have felt lucky that Felix went fast. He shivered, spilled inside his mouth, not taking his cock out until he was fully done, and then he was gone.

Killian collapsed backwards, hitting his head on the wall and knocking himself out.

He woke up in one of the clinic’s beds, all bandaged up and with an IV needle stuck in his hand. The doctors kept asking him questions, but he couldn’t utter a word. He knew he had to let them know about the rape - there must have been a way they could find evidence on it - but he simply couldn’t speak. He was too tired, too hurt, too ashamed, and of course, they didn’t find anything wrong with him besides him being underweight and bruised up, even with the obvious bump of his stomach.

His right arm was broken and he’d hit his head pretty badly when he knocked it on the wall, but with a set of painkillers running through his system he managed to walk out to his car and slowly drive to his place. He painfully dragged his badly bruised body up to his flat and he collapsed on his bed, falling asleep immediately.

His nightmares were plagued by that creature again, in various forms that resembled anything but a human. Black, oily liquid that surrounded him and suffocated him. A fiery demon pulling his intestines out. A horned female-looking demon holding a beating heart in her hand, a heart he couldn’t stop thinking was his...

Following the shock from Felix raping him, his head injury and his stay at the clinic, he’d lost complete track of time, so when he saw Pan sit next to him on the bed, stark naked, all he could do was start crying and beg him to let him be.

But Pan wouldn’t humor him. He grabbed his legs, spread them apart and fucked him hard till the morning.

“Felix wasn’t exactly part of your punishment,” he said when he was done, the first time he spoke that night. “He just enjoys beaten up messes like you were, I’m sure he told you. But if you ever, _ever_ ,” he said as he leaned close to Killian’s tear-stained face, “try to hurt my granddaughter again, I’ll make sure he _will_ be. And he won’t be alone then.”

He licked the tear track on Killian’s temple and disappeared. Killian simply kept crying.

With his body in an even worse shape, Killian could barely walk to the door to get the food he had ordered - only to eat as much as he could, which wasn’t much, and then try to sleep again. He couldn’t even clean himself decently that week, and by Saturday he still felt like he was hurting everywhere. Yet Rumple paid no mind. He came and raped him and left him feeling even dirtier and in more pain.

Seeing as Rumple kept coming every week, Killian’s recovery took longer than anticipated. He caught himself wondering if he’d ever recover completely. At his worst moments, he remembered how Pan had told him that he wouldn’t survive the end of it. He cried when his mind wouldn’t stop imagining ways the afterlife would prove to be even worse.

His nightmares kept coming as well. At random intervals, he saw the creature. He woke up in cold sweat and looked at his stomach, trying to stop his mind from imagining how horrendous it would look like once it was born.

Killian had lost all communication with the outside world. The only time he went outside was to buy groceries, and even then he kept it quick, not looking or talking to anyone. The more the bump grew, the more he found himself looking at the big sweaters in the clothing section. It couldn’t be just him, he was sure that thing couldn’t look like a pot belly. It was too round, too... centered in one place, to look normal on his body. He had to hide it somehow. He was too scared and ashamed of it. A little voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t stop telling him how it was all his fault.

Sixteen weeks in he’d managed to gain some weight back, if only due to the fatty foods he was consuming, and his bump was only growing and freaking him out. He noticed how his body hadn’t changed at all during this ordeal. He knew that normally, the hips grew at some point… but then, what exactly was normal in his case?

Rumple was caressing his unresponsive face one night when he suddenly spoke up. He almost never talked, and Killian had found he’d preferred the silence to whatever their horrible voices could utter.

“I know you’re worried, about how it all works. They all are, and it’s understandable. Women, well, sometimes they have trouble when their babies manifest their powers, but otherwise it’s a normal pregnancy.”

Killian shivered at the word. He usually shut down while either of them were there, but small triggers like these could bring him back and make him tumble with fear and pain.

“With men, it’s a little weirder, I admit, with your bodies not being made for such a process… but trust me, even if your body is struggling to adjust, it is a rather normal case. There are only two differences, both of which you already know; a sonogram won’t show anything and the baby sometimes uses its powers.” Rumple petted the bump lovingly, causing Killian to tear up. “And I see you’ve learned your lesson... with how protective she is over you, as if no-one besides us is allowed to even give you the side-eye, it’s a good thing you’ve completely isolated yourself. Otherwise I guess she’d have the whole world aflame by now.”

Killian couldn’t keep it in any longer. The idea that he isolated himself because he feared what she- it’ll do, and not because his psyche was completely torn into pieces, too much to face the world…

“There, there,” Rumple said as Killian started sobbing. He wiped away a tear as it escaped Killian’s eye, then kissed the one that fell from his other eye. He slowly started kissing his whole face, kissing away the tear tracks whenever he reached them.

By the time Rumple entered him again, Killian had shut down once more.

Killian hadn’t stopped drinking. He knew it was supposed to be a bad thing, but he didn’t truly care. All he wanted was the momentary reprieve it would give him. At some point however, he realized it wouldn’t stay in. Even a few shots made him nauseous and eventually he threw it all up. If anything, it made him even more miserable.

It took him a few days to realize it was that spawn’s doing. One day, as he walked through the store’s corridors, he heard a rattling sound from one of the shelves. He turned, and saw that a jar of marmalade was shaking lightly, stopping when Killian looked at it. He looked around to see if anyone was listening or looking. He then looked at his stomach. Besides making him puke the alcohol, it hadn’t done anything with its powers since the road trip, but nothing had happened to trigger it either. Killian heard again the rattling sound and looked up again. That time the jar was about to fall from the shelf.

“What do you want?” Killian whispered as he neared the shelf. Suddenly, the jar fell and Killian jerked to grab it before it hit the ground. “You want marmalade?” he whispered again and looked around in shame and fear. “I haven’t eaten in ages... how do you know you’ll like it?” Right then, all the jars on the shelf rattled momentarily, and Killian shivered to think what would happen if they all fell. “Okay, okay,” he whispered. “I’ll buy it.” He placed it on his cart and picked up a couple of big sweaters before he finished shopping.

The moment Killian placed the jar on his counter, it started rattling again.

“I’m not hungry, you know it,” he said and put his palm on top of the jar, stopping its movement. Suddenly, the kitchen paper roll beside him caught on fire. He gasped, and looked around in shock. He grabbed a fork and carefully pushed the roll to fall inside the sink, then turned the faucet on. But the fire kept on, no matter how much water fell on it. Killian whimpered in panic. “Fine! Fine! I’ll eat marmalade, okay?”

The fire went out immediately, but the paper had already been burnt off. If he hadn’t been freaked out by the creature’s open display of power, especially against him, he would have actually enjoyed the snack.

It was a big mistake, he realized later. As he ruefully prepared a bowl of salad for his dinner, he felt his stomach turn as if in disgust. He was certain, though, that it was the same salad mix he’d been enjoying for years, so he just kept on preparing and eating it. But only a few bites in, his stomach clenched and he heaved, and he ran for the toilet. After he emptied its meager contents, he walked back into the kitchen, not surprised to see that the bowl had dropped to the floor and the salad was spread out around it.

He cringed at the now familiar rattling sound.

The next day, it didn’t let him eat anything else at all. No matter what else he tried to consume, it made him throw it up, and only looked content with marmalade.

Killian whimpered softly after he finished his millionth slice. He looked at the jar, it was big enough but he’d already eaten more than half of it.

“I can’t eat only that thing,” he said.

It didn't reply. Killian trembled to think what it would do if he didn't eat more.

Eventually, he got sick. He started vomiting, feeling even more sick seeing his vomit consist only of marmalade, and he collapsed on the cold bathroom tiles, feeling his fever burn him up. He could hear things being rattled around, and he couldn't be sure, but he could feel something _move_ inside him. He passed out, this time seeing a nightmare of a black, shadowy figure ripping his stomach open from inside and sliding away, below the ground where it belonged. He woke up trembling, but was too weak to move.

Killian didn't know how much time had passed when Pan came. He panicked. It wasn't Saturday yet, was it? Why was he there?

Pan simply sighed. He shook his head and knelt down next to him, putting his hand on Killian's bump. That same purple glow emitted from it, and he suddenly felt all better.

“What did you do?” Killian said.

“I healed you and calmed her down. What the hell are you doing? She could have killed you!”

“Me?!” Killian burst out. “It won't let me eat anything else!” He raised his torso, supporting himself on his elbow. “It wants me to eat only marmalade!”

“Then you'll bloody well _eat_ only marmalade!” Pan stood up and looked at him angrily. “Oh and another thing, you might want to start calling 'it', 'her'. I have the feeling she doesn't like being called otherwise.” Then he disappeared.

Killian growled in frustration. He couldn't care less about what that thing liked and didn't like. However, he looked down at his bump. There was still a part of him that thought he could... _negotiate_ things with it. Perhaps he could simply add bread with marmalade to his weekly menu.

“I don't know if you can hear me now, but... please stop forcing me to eat. I will eat what you want, just... just let me eat other things too. Otherwise I'll get sick again. Please.”

This time, he felt it for sure. Something moving inside him... and a kick from inside his stomach. He froze, looking at his bump with wide eyes as he felt a few more soft kicks.

He was already struggling to accept what was happening to him. Morning sickness, growing belly... and now kicks. He found out he could only feel it move and kick when he was calm. It still freaked him out, of course, but he eventually started getting used to them.

He hated counting. He hated it so much. He knew that it didn't matter. He was going to die and nobody would care, so why did he even bother counting?

Yet he did. He knew he was starting his seventh month, and the sight of his belly terrified him. There were a few small bruises on it, undoubtedly from the thing's kicking. Sometimes it would kick so hard that for a second Killian wanted to vomit. It passed quickly but he feared to see how stronger it would get as it grew inside him.

And Rumple kept coming to hurt him. Sometimes Killian begged to leave him alone, to not hurt him.

“Please,” he said one day. “Now that she-she's growing, it hurts even more. Please don't...”

“I know it hurts,” Rumple said. “You think I haven't done this before?” He laughed and caressed Killian's cheek. Killian couldn't move away. “But it won't hurt _her_ , and that's all that matters.”

Rumple usually pushed Killian on his side and spooned him from behind, but this time he made ropes appear from the ceiling and tie around Killian's wrists, forcing him to stay on his knees and look at the headboard. Killian was crying before Rumple even forced his clothes away.

“Please...” he sobbed.

But Rumple didn't listen, he never did. He entered him and placed his hands on his belly. Killian lolled his head forward, seeing his tears fall on his pillow and his bump move with Rumple's thrusts. That terrified him even more.

But it was nothing compared to what Rumple did then.

His hands still on Killian's belly, he caressed it softly and said, “Kick for me, my girl.”

Killian couldn't remember much of that night after that. He woke up at the sound of the bells tolling, something that never stopped destroying his psyche further. He was hurting _everywhere_. His knees felt sore, his wrists had rope burns, his backside was bleeding, and his stomach... he nearly cried with how many bruises he could see. He grabbed his tear-soaked pillow and sobbed hard. Why did it have to be like this?

The more the weeks passed, the stronger the kicks became. He found himself unable to walk when the thing was active, it hurt too much to stand on his feet. Very few of his pants fit him anymore, and he didn't have the energy to go out.

His body became weaker and weaker. Following the lack of exercise, the extreme consumption of marmalade and his inability to keep up with a healthy diet, he couldn't do much other than stay in bed all week, only crawling to the shower every Sunday to wash himself from the blood and the filth.

He was losing his meaning. He couldn't even do things he liked anymore, like draw, or play chess...

Slowly, his only pastime became talking to the thing inside him. He knew it could hear him, and sometimes talking to it calmed it down and it stopped kicking him that hard, so he talked and talked. He talked about his childhood, about his mother dying and his father abandoning them, about growing up with foster parents that couldn't give a single damn about him, about foster parents who hurt him in too many ways to count, about finding his brother again only for him to die a few years later, about meeting and loving and losing Milah...

He had a lot of stories to tell, and the more he shared them, the more he realized he didn't have many happy ones.

“I don't... I don't know how this whole thing is supposed to work,” he said softly one day. “I didn't... even before I became a priest, I didn't want to have children. I never thought I would be a good father, after growing up with one who didn't care at all about me. And now it's... I'm scared.” His voice broke. “I'm so scared, I don't know why or how this is even happening, and... I don't know what you are, what you do, I don't know who to blame anymore.” He buried his face in his pillow and sobbed.

It didn't kick him for the rest of the day.

He slowly started getting some of his energy back. His traitorous mind wouldn't stop counting, so he knew he was starting his final month. Final, in every sense of the word.

Nothing truly changed. Rumple came that first Saturday, and by the end of it Killian trembled to realize that he only had three more Saturdays left. If even that.

He cried more and more often. He never remembered crying so much his whole life, as messed-up as it used to be.

He couldn't know when the day would come. He'd known how pregnancies don't always get to complete forty weeks, so he prepared every day to be _that_ day.

Nothing could prepare him enough.

He'd woken up with unusual pains. His back and hips were almost permanently complaining by now, he was used to that, but that day they just felt worse. He struggled to sit up. It was only Tuesday, too close to the tortures of Saturday, so getting to and staying in that position was already painful. He stood up on shaky legs, supporting himself on the bed and took one step towards the door.

He suddenly felt as if something was kicking from inside his chest. He coughed, bending forwards and he saw blood land on the floor. He whimpered, then he felt the taste of blood on his mouth and lips. Another kick hit him and he fell on all four, spitting even more blood and struggling to breathe.

“Help,” he said weakly. “Pan. Rump-” He never finished that last one as he felt another kick and he spit more blood. He suddenly felt a hot, searing pain somewhere between his legs. He collapsed on his side and screamed, the sound eventually getting distorted by the blood in his mouth.

It was happening. He had no idea how, but it was. Instinctively, he turned on his back, but that made him choke on his blood. Turning back on his side, he reached the bed with his hand and struggled to pull himself up. Another kick, and another stab on his hips. He screamed again.

“Help! Help me! Pan, please-” He coughed more blood and gripped hard on the foot of the bed, his hand already stained with blood, and pulled himself up. He could only lift his head and shoulders a bit and support them on the wood, and as he settled he heard a cracking sound.

It felt like an eternity, trying to understand where that noise had come from and why it sounded like that, so eerie and frightening.

When he felt the abysmal pain on his hip, he knew exactly what had happened. He felt the broken bones move around and stab him from inside, as he finally looked at his belly and saw the creature’s arms and legs push against it from inside.

It was literally ripping him open.

“Help,” he whimpered now, too taken over by the pain to speak louder. The creature kicked again and more blood reached Killian's mouth. He coughed, trying to find his breath again, but even that small movement prodded at his broken bones. He pushed his head against the wood and closed his eyes. “Help,” he said again, trying to spit the blood out without moving too much.

The pain was colossal. He dared look down, only to see what was probably the creature's struggles to get out. Killian whimpered. All of those changes his body sustained to bear this thing, only for it to be unable to get out. He looked around weakly, for anything that could be sharp enough to cut himself open.

If he had a chance to think more clearly, he would've panicked at the thought of doing that. But now he just wanted it to be over. And yet he couldn't find anything, not that he could move to reach it.

The creature kept kicking, causing Killian to spit even more blood. He looked at his shirt, stained with his blood, and then at his sweatpants. Would he have to remove them to-

Another burning pain overtook him and he threw his head back again, his screams gurgling through the blood in his mouth and throat. He felt the creature move, he felt his broken bones move around and hurt him more... and then he felt something warm and wet between his legs. If he hadn't been in so much pain, he would've thought he'd pissed himself... but then it spread, and spread, as he felt his skin _open_ down there.

He couldn't move, he couldn't scream. He could barely breathe. And not only because of the blood slowly filling his lungs.

He could only wish for it to be over soon. Yet it felt like an eternity, of his skin opening from the pressure, of his lungs filling with blood, of his own bones ripping through his muscles. And then he heard the sound of fabric being teared apart, and the sound of something leaking. Was that... the water?

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his limited breathing. He was still spitting blood, or more like it was slowly filling and then dripping from his mouth. He was still feeling a constant pressure from under his stomach, until the rip between his legs was finally big enough for him to feel something round and warm try to get through it. He whimpered and felt a shiver run down his spine.

With one final push against his insides, he felt its whole body slide outside. The pain hadn't lessened at all. He lay there, too tired to move or even open his eyes. His time was coming, he knew it, he could feel something cold spread through his blood...

And then he heard a cry. It was wild, loud, but it sounded like a normal baby's cry. He opened his eyes, only to feel tears run from them. His vision was blurred now, but his hearing was as clear as ever. He could hear the cry, soft and innocent and real and right there...

All the fear, all the terror, all the nightmares... he didn't care. She was there, real, _his_. His daughter. His baby girl. She could be the devil incarnate for all he cared. But his chest filled with an entirely new warmth, and at that moment, only hearing her cry, he knew he loved her. If only he could just move a little to see her...

A high-pitched giggle caught his attention, and he turned his eyes to see Rumple stand next to him, looking at his baby still crying where it had landed. Rumple bent forward and picked her up. All of a sudden, Killian's vision cleared and between his tears, he could see a pink, covered in blood, squirming, but human, baby.

His baby girl.

He felt his lips form a smile. Rumple brought her a little closer, and Killian could see her open her eyes and look around. She was moving her legs and arms around, and she looked so small and so fragile and he just wanted to hold her...

Killian raised his hand weakly, but Rumple drew her back. Killian whimpered weakly and dropped his hand.

“It's customary to have the human parent name the baby,” Rumple said as he held the baby in his arms, almost hiding her from Killian's sight. “You know, since they give birth only to die after...” He made a face and looked at him impatiently.

Killian was too tired to think, too weak... He just wanted to hold her once. But if all he could give her was a name, that he would.

In such a painful yet happy moment, the only person he could think of was his mother.

“Alice,” he gurgled through the blood, not taking his eyes off his daughter.

Rumple smiled his creepy smile and looked at her as well. And then he was gone.

A sudden, unprecedented pain spread through Killian's chest, and he knew it had nothing to do with his multiple injuries. He felt tears run from his eyes and sobs starting to rock his body. They only brought more blood up his throat, causing Killian to choke helplessly on it.

Perhaps he should welcome death already. The only place Rumple would take his daughter was Hell, and Killian would certainly go there anyway, so he felt the need to let go. Perhaps he could see her there one day.

His last thought was of his Alice, praying on his lost faith that she would be fine wherever she was, and then he lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha did you think I would just leave it there?
> 
> I hope I can wrap this up with one more chapter though. I have no idea how this fic, that had started only because I wanted to whump Priest!Killian, ended up turning into a Wish!Hook/messed-up knightrook fic, but it did. What can I do?
> 
> Please tell me though if you expected it to go there, and what clued you in :D


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